Before the Dust Settles
by Mythicalnightguard
Summary: This story has a similar plot to Dust in the Wind, but is from the perspective of Octavius. I hope you enjoy, it will offer a more in depth look into what happened in the prequal story. It might help to read Dust in the Wind. This is basically the story of the last exhibits, after a terrible accident destroys their museum home. R&R, no/.
This is sort of a sequal to Dust in the Wind. If you haven't read that, it may help. Enjoy!

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Do I remember the day the walls came crashing down? Why, yes, of course I do. How could I forget? The night our world ended had been normal, as most of our nights often were, but there was a darkness lingering over us. All of us. Teddy, Ahkmenrah, Attila, Dexter…..me. It may have been bad luck. Or perhaps we had angered the gods who govern our lives. Perhaps, it was just our time. Do I like what happened? No, of course not. But all things happen for a reason.

I remember, yes, the terrible night everything burned down. The night our home was engulfed in flames. I had been in the…."automotive chariot", at the time, with Jedediah. We had been heading downstairs to watch the soccer game that was held there every Thursday night. And then the strangest of sounds came.

I remember the loud, blaring noise that came from above us. We had stopped to marvel at the peculiar noise. I remember turning to Jedediah to ask what it could be. He replied with "I don't know, maybe it's-"...But he did not finish his statement, for terror had erupted throughout the museum, and had planted its roots within us.

A moment later we smelled the burning. Sometimes, though it was years ago, it still feels like I am breathing in the smoke. It was like….it reminded me of the fires that would break out in Rome. I remember, then, Larry running towards Ahkmenrah's exhibit. I think….I think he had been warning of a fire, but I could not hear at the time.

How did I feel at that moment? Afraid. Jedediah and I were both afraid. What else could we have felt? We did not know what we should do. My first instinct had been to locate the fire, to see if we could have possibly helped. I do not know if Jedediah was thinking the same as I. He may have been, but I believe his first priority had been to get myself, and him back to our hall.

We should have gone outside, to escape the fiery shadow of death that hunted us. But what good would that have done for us? It was almost morning. We would be dust if we went out into the lightening dawn. Jedediah and I drove to our hall. But we were stopped by the blaze. It was blocking our path.

My heart was hurting then. My people were in that hall, burning, panicking, not knowing what they should do, for they had no leaders present to aid them. I know Jedediah felt the same. He had gotten out of the car and paced desperately beside the flames. When I felt he got too close I pulled him back, but only to get yelled at by him in frustration each time. He wanted to reach them just as badly as I did. But there was no way for us to get in.

The flames were growing larger. Before we knew it, the fire had reached for us. I had to pull Jedediah away. I regretted it greatly. He is a good leader, loyal to his people. But there was nothing we could have done. We needed to get to safety. He did not fight me for leading him away.

We had hoped one of the larger exhibits would help us. But none of them stopped. They were too intent on saving their own lives.

I should not speak bitterly of them. Panic can blind any man, and make him forget those that need him.

I remember Teddy and Sacagawea fleeing outside, along with some of the more sensible exhibits, who understood the danger of fire. Jedediah and I had hoped to make it outside ourselves. It was not what we wanted, but it had been our last resort. We did not make it out.

There had been a loud rumble from above us. At the time I did not know what it was. Perhaps it was a piece of the ceiling. Or maybe one of the animals. All I remember is a great pain at that instant in my leg, and my vision swirling as if I was spinning. I remember hitting something and getting the wind knocked out of me, but that is all I can recall. I do remember Jedediah calling out to me, but I could not reply. I remember darkness. And the heat. It was so hot….

I do not know what happened while I was out. All I know is that I woke up after many days. I remember lying on a makeshift bed with no pillow. I was covered by my cape. The smell of smoke still hung in the air. I remember looking up, seeing the Sun set. That was when I had begun to panic. I had thought I was dead. But then, Jedediah was beside me. He looked happy, concerned, and frightened all at once.

I had gone to speak, but he had shushed me. I remember he kept saying. "Lie down, it's okay. Yer gonna be fine." I believed him. I knew I was safe around Jedediah. He would let no harm come to me while I was weak. But it was the worry in his eyes that scared me.

I remember trying to move anyways, and feeling a sharp pain in my leg. I almost screamed. I remember asking Jedediah why it hurt. He had explained everything to me.

He had told me how, while we had been running, one of the larger exhibits had kicked me aside in their haste. I had flew sideways, he said, and hit a wall. Jedediah had rushed to me, but I had been unconscious. He told me he had dragged me out of the way, into one of the many maintenance closets scattered about our museum home. There had been a bucket of old water, he had told me, and he had struggled to get me up and into the safety of the water. The flames had been coming closer, he said, and he had followed me a moment later. He said there had been a mop he had clung to, after tying me up in the giant, rope like tendrils to keep me afloat.

He told me we had stayed there for hours, until the flames had died away. When they finally did, he explained how he had pulled me out, and dragged me into one of the few hollow walls still standing. He had looked me over, and discovered my injury.

My right leg had been crushed by the foot of the giant that had knocked me aside. He said he tried to bind it as best he could, but it was a "mangled mess". He told me I had been unconscious for four days.

After taking in the fact that I was injured, and after assuring myself he was not, I had asked where everyone was.

His expression had turned sad at that point. Everyone, he told me, at least, the larger exhibits, had perished. Larry had died in the fire. He had seen giant men in yellow suits that covered most of their bodies carry away his charred remains. He said there was almost nothing left of our night guard friend.

The other exhibits, the ones that had not burned to death, had not been able to seek cover. He had watched Sacagawea and Teddy turn to dust. A day later, other giant people came, sifting through the wreckage. They had come close to our hiding place. Jedediah said they had been talking about "the Egyptian on display", and realized they had been talking about Ahkmenrah. But they never found him. His pure human body had been burnt to ashes.

The day after that, a few hours before I woke, he said there had been other people there. He said they had been talking about a widespread fire in the city. After they left, he left me in safety to get a closer look. Almost half of New York had been destroyed by the flames. It must have been one of the biggest fires in the history of man.

All efforts to clean up the ruins of our museum had stopped. The people responsible for repairs must have been needed elsewhere. I still do not know what started the fire, and I never will.

A few weeks went by, and the open wounds on my leg had healed well enough. Jedediah disappeared often, searching for food and water and extra fabric for blankets and bedding. it had been winter when the fire came, and nights were especially cold. He got the food from the cafe that had once stood next to the museum. There had been a few food items that had not been turned to ashes by the fire, and he had harvested what he could. Plastic packaging is difficult for small men like us to break. He only left at night, but I was in and out of consciousness often, and sometimes I would awaken to find him gone. I was afraid of him not being there when I woke. But he was never gone for more than an hour or two.

After a few months, I began to attempt to walk on my leg. It had hurt greatly, but Jedediah and I knew we could no longer stay where we were hiding. We needed to keep moving. And, we had almost exhausted the supplies in our area. On top of that, there were rats about the area we were sheltering in.

At nights, when we were sure no animals or giant humans were about, Jedediah would help me out of our shelter. He would take me on and help me with walking exercises. Sometimes it was a small walk around the old perimeter of the museum. Others, I would be climbing simple things like debris and stepping over obstacles. As my leg grew stronger, he urged me to run laps with him.

I knew the nightly movement would help strengthen my leg, but I did not like the running. It hurt,and left the injured muscles aching. But I did it for Jedediah. We needed to leave, and I knew if I could not walk, he would not go. During the day we hid in our shelter, and I could feel his restlessness. I knew he wanted to move. Jedediah was never one for sitting still, especially in closed, confined spaces with little room. When night fell, he was always keen to get out. The running helped relieve his anxiety. If it hurt my leg, it made my heart feel better to see his spirits lift a little.

A month later, I decided I was well enough to move about without difficulty. Although my leg was still sore, I knew I could manage. I am a soldier. It takes more than a bad leg to stop me. I knew Jedediah was ready to leave, but he wanted to be sure that I would be able to manage the journey. I told him I was ready. It was a slight lie, but I knew we could stay in our shelter no longer. We had run out of food, and the bottlecap Jedediah had been using to catch water for us had been empty for almost three nights, as there had been no rain to catch.

We decided during the day we would leave. We did not know where we would go. We knew it must be somewhere sheltered and away from the Sun's light. It needed to be warm, and protected from the rain. It also needed to have easy access to food and water. As soon as night fell, we had left.

Jedediah had climbed a perch to see where we were. He had concluded we were somewhere near the center of the museum. He said we should head towards the main entrance. So, that is the way we went.

I am not sure how long we walked for. It may have been nights, maybe weeks, perhaps a month, I am uncertain. We only traveled by night, seeking what shelter we could during the day. We scavenged for anything we could eat, and drank any water we could find. I thought our journey would never end.

Finally, when we had reached what had once been the main hall, we discovered something. Something wonderful. Something that gave us….hope. Beneath a layer of ceiling tiles, we found the Tablet. It was still working as it always had, except, one of the pieces was turned slightly out of place. We figured that was why we were awake during the day.

Better still, we realized we were in the same hall as the fountain Larry had installed a few years earlier was in. Sure enough, we had found the well. We had made a makeshift ladder to reach it, and found plenty of water. It was slightly dirty, but at that point we did not care.

I remember bending down to take a sip, and then Jedediah pushing me in from behind. The coldness of the water had shocked me, and for a moment I could not swim as my leg was aching at the chill. But a minute later I was floating, and glaring up at Jedediah.

I could not have stayed mad at him, though. He had been laughing. For the first time since the fire months ago, he was laughing. It made my heart swell to see him smile again. A second later he had jumped in too. I cannot remember just how long we were in the fountain, admiring and celebrating the fact that we were alive.

The day came and went. At the first sign of night Jedediah and I crept out of our new shelter. This one was much sturdier than the last, and a lot warmer, since we had managed to scrounge up some slightly scorched insulator from the walls. There was more room, too. It was the size of a medium room, to us. That night we gathered up bedding material and each made a bed. Jedediah, feeling a sudden spark of human necessity, found a few small chunks of wood, as well as a few twigs, and built us a table and two stools, using staples he had found to hold them together.

We had been happy for a time. It was good to be alive. One night, after the busy work of making the shelter feel like home, we decided to take a walk. I remember we talked. We talked for a long time. I remember Jedediah was reminiscing about our old adventures, silly little pranks we used to do, even going as far as to say he missed my "backseat driving".

I had been very glad to still have Jedediah with me. If he had not been with me, I would not have made it that far.

Later that night, while we were returning to our shelter, we came upon something even greater than the Tablet.

Other miniatures had survived. To our surprise, we had run into a group of mine and his people. A few Romans, a couple cowboys. Some men, some women, a small handful children. They seemed overjoyed to see us. We had been overjoyed to see them.

We all talked for a brief spell, until morning began to approach. They told us they were looking for somewhere to settle, since they had been wandering for a long time. We told them of the place we had found with the fountain, and led them there.

A few months later, without really knowing it, Jedediah and I had built a settlement. The survivors we had discovered moved in, and built their own homes and structures. Together we built a food deposit, and a few wells that helped us access the fountain water, and went on forages and hunts to take down small rodents for food. We had made civilization again.

We were both happy to have done something useful. Something to help the remnants of our people. Everyone seemed happy. We were leaders again. No longer refugees. We had helped the survivors and led them as best we could. For almost three years things went smoothly.

Until the night marking the fourth year. That is the night I began to have nightmares. Terrible dreams had plagued my sleep. Some nights I would sleep fine. Others, I would dream of terrible things. Sometimes, I would have vivid dreams of Jedediah burning in the fire, sometimes myself, as well. Sometimes, it would be Larry or Ahkmenrah or another of my friends burning. Those were always the dreams that made me wake with such cries of terror I am sure everyone knew of my fear.

But every time I woke with a dream fresh in my mind, Jedediah was right there beside me, sitting on one of the stools he had made. He had always tried to comfort me. And he did his best, but I often pushed him away and told him little about my dreams. I did not wish for him to concern over me.

Night after night this went on. Sometimes I would wake up before the end of my dreams. Other times, I would scream and scream but be unable to open my eyes. It was the nights with those dreams that Jedediah would stay beside me the entire night.

After a few months of these night terrors, Jedediah started showing signs of his own internal struggle. It was after I had woken up from one of my more vivid dreams. He had been beside me, as usual, and trying to calm me. He had offered me a hug, which I had gladly accepted. After a moment he suggested we go outside. We had sat in front of our shelter, watching the stars. It was there he confided his fears to me.

Although he stayed with me during the nights we rested, it was not all for my benefit. He told me he was afraid of being alone. He had been having terrors of his own. But these were not like mine. They were more like panic attacks, and had been happening to him frequently. I felt terrible and angry with myself after he told me this. I had been so intent on my own fears, that I had failed notice how he felt.

Both of us struggled. Myself at night, Jedediah at any given time. Sometimes he went into a panic that would last for days. He would lie on his bed, curled up in a ball, sometimes staring at the wall, other times forcing sleep upon himself. He would go through long periods of silence. He would not speak to me. The only comfort I could give him was an arm over the shoulder and a few reassuring words.

During one of these panics, I had been asleep. Seeing as both of us had been having trouble and needed constant attention, I was camping in his room, on the floor. I had not been dreaming that night, so was aware and had heard him crying. I remember getting up to go to him, and freezing in shock at what he had been about to do.

He had been holding my sword to his chest, the tip pointed at his hurting heart. I remember almost panicking, but keeping as calm as possible as I approached him. I had sat down beside him, gently taking the weapon from his hands. I remember him looking at me, his eyes afraid and tear filled, speaking everything he had been feeling.

He had broken down in front of me, telling me how it felt like every minute of the day was a struggle. He told me that he wanted it to stop. He wanted the panics and the pain of losing so many people to go away. He told me that seeing me suffering and being unable to help me hurt him too. He had told me he wanted to give up. What was the point, he had asked me, his voice breaking. I told him exactly what the point was.

I told him I needed him. I reminded him of all we had been through, all we had done to help and protect each other. He had looked at me, wiping his eyes, before nodding and telling me I was right. He said he was sorry and I told him not to be. I could see he was tired, and after a few moments he had drifted off back so sleep on my shoulder. I had remained still for the longest time, before gently laying him down. I could not fall back to sleep, so by the light of a torch on the wall I stayed awake, and let my mind wander.

His panics and my dreams lasted for five unsteady years. Many things began to happen at the end of these years. My leg had begun to hurt again. It had always been stiff, and I had often had a limp, but it had begun to hurt more than usual. It was painful and sore. Sometimes it was stiffer than usual. Sometimes, the old scars would break open and bleed. I tried to hide this from Jedediah. He did not need to worry. I just told him I liked wearing the fabric brace he had made for me. He had always looked at me with an incredulous look, but he never questioned me. Our food supply was running low, and we had found a dead rat in our water supply, so his mind was often occupied.

One night, Jedediah and I formulated a plan to lead our people to somewhere new. We had just finished discussing where we would go, when disaster struck us.

There had been a Mayan raid on our small camp. They were a rogue band that had become a problem in the past few weeks. They had attacked us. They came in the night and slaughtered almost everyone in the camp. They took what little food we had left. One of the warriors had broken into the house. Jedediah tried to fight him. But the warrior was much faster, and his spear had pierced through Jedediah's arm. The warrior had been about to end him. But I came up from behind and took him out. There was no mercy in my blow.

After the Mayans left, there were only a handful of our people still living. Jedediah's injury did not seem severe, but I wanted it to get looked at. Among the survivors was my medic, Lucius. When I asked if he could look at Jedediah, he agreed. But some of the people were angry at us.

They said we had failed in protecting them. We were their leaders, thus we should have saved them. But what could we have done? We were just as defenseless, just as surprised as they had been. But they would have none of it.

They forced Jedediah and I into exile. They threatened to kill Lucius and his family if he tried to help us. It was something that deeply startled me. Our once peaceful people had turned into violent, cold hearted, selfish monsters.

Before we left, Lucius bound Jedediah's wound, even though it was dangerous to him to do so. It was just a flesh wound, he had told us, and he assured me that Jedediah would be okay. We had wished him well, and then left.

We wandered for a long time, longer than either of us could guess. I believe it was a year we wandered. We found nowhere to shelter. Food was hard to find. Water harder.

We only traveled by night, and we rested during the day. I was still haunted by my nightmares, and Jedediah was still tortured by his panics. We lived in constant fear of tracks from the Mayans. We lived in fear of death.

After a while, Jedediah's wound healed, but it left behind a ragged scar on his arm. I had been glad to see he had recovered, but the same luck had not been for me. My leg had gotten worse due to our constant moving and lack of hygiene. There was just no time to stop and tend to it. I had to force myself onwards. I told myself I had to do it for Jedediah's sake.

He had been all I had left. And I was all he had left. We both knew we had to stay together. If we drifted apart, we would surely crumble.

And then, mid stride, I fell.

I could no longer stand the pain. The wounds on my leg had become infected, and the bone had turned brittle.

I remember Jedediah yelling my name in shock. I had told him I was fine, but he did not believe me. He ripped the binding off of my leg, and after seeing what I had kept hidden for so long, he yelled at me. He told me I was an idiot for not telling him and not asking for help. I did not argue. He was right. I was a fool.

I do not remember much of what he said. I had been in too much pain. There was only one place he could take me for help; Lucius. Jedediah had half dragged, half carried me there. I had tried to walk as best I could, but I was losing feeling in my leg. Halfway there I must have passed out, for I cannot remember what happened.

I remember small glimpses of what happened the week we were with Lucius. I remember him standing over me, my head on a comfortable pillow and a thick, warm blanket covering my body, except for my leg. I remember hearing Lucius talk to Jedediah about my injury. I recall the words "infected", "dirty", and "very ill".

I must have had a fever that night, for I remember having chills. I remember drifting in and out of consciousness. I remember the pain. The agony in my leg. I had been getting worse.

Jedediah never left my side. When I woke he was always right there beside me. When I opened my eyes he would smile. He would give me water. I drank little. He would try to give me food. I ate none. I must have been in a feverish stupor, because I said little to nothing to him. Now I wish I had. There were so many things I had left unsaid….

There was one night, though, when Jedediah was not beside me. Only Lucius was with me. That night my leg had hurt very badly. Worse than it ever had. I remember crying out in feverish agony, Lucius trying to get me to quiet down. He was stabbing my leg. Now I know he was not trying to hurt me. He was trying to fix the illness in my leg. But at the time I was too frightened to decipher it. I must have called for Jedediah many times during the procedure. I wanted him to come. To help me. To comfort me. But he did not come. The only thing I heard from him that night was suppressed sobs from the next room.

The next time I woke, I knew, was my last. I knew I was on my deathbed. I do not know why I knew, but I could feel it. I knew I was dying. I could feel my life slipping away from me. I tried my hardest to cling to it, but part of me had already accepted my fate. Jedediah had been with me then. He had been trying to hide his tears. Trying to comfort me. I remember taking a deep breath, trying to force my weakening body to stay awake. I tried to. I really tried. But everything around me was going dark. I remember Jedediah pleading for me to stay with him, but what could I do? My time had come.

I remember he held my hand, his eyes hurt and sad. I cannot recall all that was said, but he called me his brother. He said he would not let me die, and that I had promised to stay with him. If I died, I would break that promise. But there was nothing I could have done.

I wanted to hug him. One last time, to comfort his weary soul. I had tried to sit up. But before I could reach him, I was gone.

I remember my spirit rising from my body, looking on in silent sadness at the anguish my friend….no, my brother, was in due to my passing. He had been hugging my still body, sobbing quietly. I wanted to reach out to him. To tell him it would be okay. But before I could, I was led away.

I do not know what made me leave. It was like a….like a glowing golden orb. It reminded me strangely of the Tablet. It led me to a gate. One I had seen before, and was not keen to enter. It forced me inside, and into a world of darkness. Mist had swirled about my feet, and there was no Moon, nor Sun. It was cold. I was frightened of this new place.

I remember wandering there for what seemed like forever, but it had only been a few hours. I could feel a great sadness. It was Jedediah's sadness, I knew. Even in life, I had always felt it when he was sad, as we shared some sort of connection.

I focused my mind on him, and found myself in the ruins of the museum once more. I saw him hiding in the shadows, watching with teary eyes as my body turned to dust in the morning Sun. I knew what he had been thinking at that instant. What he wanted to do. I do not know if he felt me grab his arm to stop him from following me, but I knew td he knew I was there. And I knew that as long as he felt my presence, he would be safe from himself.

Before I could do anything else, my concentration had been broken. I found in front of me something that lifted part of the burden off my shoulders. The spirits of my friends were here, in this cold, cold place. Teddy, Ahkmenrah, Sacajawea….all of them. Even Larry. I learned that they had been watching over Jedediah and I the whole time.

Through the years, I kept my eyes on Jedediah. He stayed with Lucius for a while, before striking out on his own. He wandered alone for many years. He needed me often. He would cry out for me when he was in a panic, and I would come to comfort him. When he was afraid, I would offer him words of encouragement. When he was alone, I would watch over him, and guard him while his weary heart rested.

I was never not there when he called. I do not know if he could see me, but I knew he always felt my presence. Sometimes, he would speak his mind, his questions in solitude, and I would answer, whispering on the wind.

Then the day came for Jedediah to join me. I knew the day had been coming. It comes with being a spirit. I knew when and where he would meet his end, and so, I was there. I did not like watching him die. The Mayan had been quick with his spear thrust, but had left Jedediah to suffer on the ground, alone. I knew his time was drawing nearer. I came to him. I kneeled down. I gently stroked his forehead, whispering his name calmly. He groaned and squinted at me. I knew that this time he could see me, for his time was up. He had been preparing to speak to me, but his body had tensed as his spirit broke free.

Jedediah had been confused at first, looking at his glowing hands in confusion. He had then looked at me. He had smiled, for the first time in a long time, and we embraced. There were tears of joy in both of our eyes. We were together again. And this time, there was nothing that could break us apart.

I lead him to the gates of the Underworld. It is a terrible place to spend eternity, but we were doomed there by the Tablet. And though the world we live in now is cold and desolate, we are happy.

Now, I should be going. I believe Jedediah is needing me.

I am coming, mi amice!


End file.
